Gaze not upon my outside, friend,
With scorn or with disgust-
Judge not, until you condescend
To look beneath the crust.
Rough and unsightly is my shell,
But you just dues will render;
And to the world the truth will tell,
And say my heart is tender.
The young may scorn my olden ways,
With their new-fashioned notions;
The old the insult soon repays
By claiming double portions.
'Tis true, like modern Misses, gay,
The truth is sad, distressing!
But I must now say out my say-
I need a little dressing!
My sauce, my rich apparel, hides
My ugly form from sight;
The goodness of my heart, besides,
Will always come to light.
Then judge not by the surface, dear;
Look deeper at the heart:
Above the faults of earth appear
Beneath the better part.